F words
by somethingcreative09
Summary: Series of one shots, some connecting, some not, all revolving around an F word and of course BB. some romance/angst/funny,fluff/ maybe even smut if you're lucky! Rating may change from chapter to chapter... you're forewarned
1. Freak

He knew it was stupid. Rationally he knew full well that dreams had nothing to do with reality but it didn't help to quell his anxiety. He'd woken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, twisted in his comforter, and his sheets fisted in his hands. He didn't remember the whole thing but what little he could was seared into his mind. Her face had been deathly pale, lips bright as blood and eyes wide and panicking. He hadn't even known what was wrong or how to help her, which was probably the worst part.

Once he was awake it had taken him almost a minute to regain his bearings and another ten to calm his heart and his shaking body. His morning routine had been excruciating, everything seemed to take twice as long but he forced himself to stay on task. It was bad enough that he was freaking out because of a dream like some twelve year old girl, he wasn't going to make it worse by doing exactly what he felt like doing and flying over to her apartment and knock in her door. No, he was better than that. He had enough self control over himself to at least wait until his desperation to see her wasn't pouring out of his skin. The last thing he needed was for Bones to know how much he'd let a freaking dream affect him. She thought he was superstitious as it was!

Hours later, as soon as it was socially acceptable (at least in his mind) he knocked (okay pounded) on her door bearing coffee and donuts. The fact that he'd been there when the shop _opened_ probably should've signaled to him that it was still too early but he'd been patient long enough. The whole morning had been ridiculous. Did it usually take that long for the sun to show itself!? He'd made himself wait until the first glimmers of morning light but that was as far as his control would stretch.

An eternity later when she finally opened the door he felt a moment's rush of overwhelming relief, followed closely by embarrassment. Now that he could see her in front of him, the rational part of his brain woke up and informed him that this situation was going to be really awkward. Bones was _not_ a morning person. She did however look adorable with her hair a mess and her face puffy with sleep, that and the fact that she was in sweats and a tank top. (focus!) Her face clearly said she wasn't thrilled with his visit, donuts or not. She moved to the side, letting him into her home and helping herself to coffee.

"This had better be good." He grimaced internally because the truth was he had **no** reason to be here, let alone a good one. He hadn't thought of anything to say in his rush over either. He looked up to find her staring at him, concerned by his silence. She set down her coffee and closed the distance between them. "Booth, what happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened Bones. Can't I just visit my partner?" He plastered on his best I'm-completely-innocent smile but it did nothing to dissuade her.

"You just wanted to visit." She repeated his words but squinted at him suspiciously. "Booth it's barely 5 o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah well I was bored." _Brilliant._

"And I was sleeping." She didn't look thrilled but he could tell she wasn't angry, just curious. Okay. Truth time. He let out a breath and sat on her couch, patting the cushion beside him. The worry lines on her forehead grew more pronounced but she sank in beside him. "Booth are you sure nothing's wrong? Is it Hank? Or Parker, is Parker all right?"

"Bones they're both fine. If Parker were hurt do you really think I'd be here with coffee and donuts?" She obviously relaxed slightly at that before turning on him with renewed curiosity.

"Then why are you here?" This was humiliating. He felt the flush crawl up his neck, settling on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He spoke his next words as quickly as possible and avoided her eyes.

"I had a nightmare." Great. Now he sounded like a ten year old.

"A nightmare." He looked up to find her forehead wrinkled in confusion but thankfully she wasn't laughing him out of the apartment. "What was it about?"

"You." She raised her eyebrows. "Something happened to you; I couldn't help, couldn't stop it."

"And you came over because you thought it was real?"

"Yes- well no. I know it was just a dream but I couldn't relax. I wasn't going to be able to sleep until I saw that you were okay."

"So you were scared." He searched her face, trying to guess where she was heading.

"Yeah Bones, I was scared." She nodded her head, surprising him with her quick acceptance. "What you don't think I'm some kind of freak for running over here at 5am because of a dream?" He laughed but it sounded uncomfortable and vulnerable. She studied him for a long moment and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what she found there in his face. The moment stretched unbearable before she seemed to finally make a decision. Without a word she moved to the other end of the couch against the armrest and looked at him, determined but a little shy. She patted her lap and looked him defiantly in the eyes.

"Come over here."

"What?" He was thoroughly confused.

"Lie down and put your head on my lap. It's what my mom used to do for me when I was a kid and had nightmares." He was struck speechless for a second, sure he heard her wrong and embarrassed by how strongly he wanted to do just that.

"Thanks Bones that's really sweet, but you don't have to." Uncertainty flashed a second before determination settled into her features, if he hadn't known her so well he might've missed it altogether. He hated when she had that look, especially when he caused it.

"I do have to. I promised Hank that I would hold you if you needed it. I think this qualifies." Of all the things he thought were going to come out of her mouth his grandfather wasn't anywhere on the list.

"You promised him you'd _hold me?_ You're gonna have to explain that one."

"I will, if you'll get over here and let me keep my promise first." As awkward as he felt lying down across his partner, he was more curious to see just what the hell was involved in this promise of hers and whether or not he'd be thanking Pops or killing him. He lay on his side facing away from the couch and definitely not looking Bones in the eyes. He fought to keep his arms at his side when all he wanted to do was put his hands on her thigh next to his head. As soon as he was settled she let her right arm fall on his shoulder, hand casually dangling over the edge of his body.

"I dream about you too sometimes. Usually you're getting shot, sometimes the Gravedigger has you and I'm watching you run out of air but I can't find you." She paused and he stayed silent and still, afraid that one move could break the moment. "When I wake up it's hard to remember where I am sometimes and I usually can't fall back to sleep."

"So what do you do?" Because she obviously didn't storm into _his _apartment at the crack of dawn.

"Write, go to the lab, clean; depends on my mood I guess."

"You mean I could've just done the dishes instead of barging in on my partner? Now you tell me." She laughed softly.

"You're more… visceral than I am Booth. I can understand why you felt like you had to come over."

"You're not angry?"

"No. It's nice to know I'm not the only one with creepy killer dreams about my partner." She began to rub her thumb in circles on his arm so absently that he wondered if she realized she was doing it. She ran her left hand lightly over the tips of his hair, playing with it for a few minutes, adding more pressure until she was lightly scratching his scalp with her nails and then starting the cycle again. He was incredibly grateful that he wasn't facing her when his eyes began to prick slightly; his manhood was already seriously in question. There was nothing sexual about the way she was touching him but as he sank into her and felt himself drifting off to sleep, he'd never felt more connected to anyone in his life. Here, with her, it felt like home.


	2. Fix

**A/N Here's a short one, it's an angsty little S.O.B. but hopefully you'll forgive me when you read 'Forget' which is the prequel to this and which I will post ASAP**

Fix

"You've got to be kidding me. Learn how to drive or get off the road!" Brennan glanced surreptitiously at her fuming partner. He'd been in an awful mood all day and driving around the city was obviously not helping. She wanted to say something to help his mood but she was painfully aware that his hostility level ratcheted up every time she spoke.

It's been weeks, three incredibly painful, frustrating weeks. He'd finally stopped avoiding her after she cornered him in his office a few days ago. She'd thought his indifference was the worst thing resulting from that day but his open hostility was crushing.

He didn't even yell at _her_, nothing negative was directed her way but every time he snapped at a co worker, waiter, or some other undeserving person she felt the words like knives in her gut.

Getting passed that day was proving to be impossible for both of them, though she suspected it was for very different reasons. She knew it was impossible but it didn't stop her from wishing with every fiber of her being that she could erase what happened. If it had never happened- she wouldn't have to concentrate so hard just to be normal around him and he wouldn't have to be so filled with guilt he could barely look at her. Shame filled her chest as her thoughts drifted into the past.

_She had woken slowly, the way you do when you're completely comfortable and relaxed. As she stretched, her hands hit an unfamiliar headboard and she froze, willing herself to remember. The entire day came flooding back to her all at once, the vulnerability of it making her flinch. _Oh god. _What had she done? She'd shown up at his door and she'd been so-… and he'd tried to-… but she just-….Her mind went into a full blown panic, made worse by the fact that her partner was definitely not in bed beside her; he'd probably escaped as soon as she'd fallen asleep and she really couldn't blame him. She'd practically forced him into sleeping with her!_

_She had to fix this. He was too important to her to allow one stupid night of her own weakness to ruin everything. She knew how he felt about sex, how he believed that there was a responsibility attached to it- more than anything she didn't want him to feel tied to her, responsible for her because of something she'd made him do. His sense of obligation wouldn't allow him to do what needed to be done, but she could. As hard as it might be for her, she was certain it was the best thing for him._

_She threw the covers from the bed, unaware of the small slip of paper fluttering to the floor, and set about gathering her clothes. She barely bothered to get fully dressed before she cautiously made her way out of the bedroom and into the living room. Though she'd been hoping not to run into him, _not_ seeing him made the hollow void in her chest go cold. He'd really left. He was somewhere, right now, beating himself up for what was entirely her doing._

_The last thing she wanted to do was stay in the apartment any longer but she knew it was for the best if the next time they saw each other this was behind them. She grabbed a pad of sticky notes from his junk drawer in the kitchen and scrawled over them quickly before she could change her mind._

Booth, I'm sorry for showing up last night like I did. Please just forget I ever came here, I need things to stay the way they were. Please. –Brennan

_She'd stuck the note on his bedroom door and slipped out of the apartment only minutes before he'd returned carrying coffee and bagels._

He had of course, tried to call and talk to her but she'd stood her ground. He'd wanted a reason, convinced this was just one of her attempts to keep people out, that she was running scared. She could never tell him how much it had meant to her, how safe she'd felt, or how her whole body now felt like an open wound because she knew it could never happen again. She knew he would stay if she asked him to. Knew it like she knew the bones of the human body, but she also knew he'd be staying for the wrong reasons. He always punished himself, always felt overwhelming guilt whenever something happened to her, whether or not he was even present at the time. He had to make everything better, he had to save her. When she'd shown up at his apartment that night, it was only about comfort, he was only trying to fix what he hadn't been able to stop.

But now, he was so angry all the time and she didn't know what to do. If it were anyone else she'd be talking to him about it. As it stood she just felt lost in her own life. She'd known it would be awkward, that despite her ability to compartmentalize (except apparently when it came to him) the days following were going to be hard for both of them. She'd never dreamed it would be like this… and she had no idea how to fix it.

**A/N I'm toying with writing this from Booth's POV. What do you think?**


	3. Forget

**Prequel to 'Fix'**

Forget

It had been a moment, a split second when the typical had slipped quickly into what would be the catalyst that pulled their center off its axis for months following.

They'd been questioning a man who they'd thought might have some information on a case they were working. They were in broad daylight, on the sidewalk in front of a CVS and next to Booth's SUV. One second they'd been speaking amiably and the next thing either of them knew the man was pressed against her back and holding a switchblade at her gut. Despite the adrenaline that pulsed through her body she hadn't been overly concerned. The man was small and wiry, she felt confident that she could incapacitate him easily if it became necessary; she'd noticed during their conversation that he favored his right leg and was sure a swift kick to his left kneecap would do the job nicely.

His knife bit into her belly slightly and although she winced briefly she knew her abdomen was a much less dangerous place for it to be then say, her carotid artery. The final and most significant thing that kept her calm was the fact that her partner had a gun trained on the man behind her, and guns beat knives every time. She knew unequivocally that she was safe, one way or another he'd get her out of this.

Her sense of calm was shattered a moment later when he tightened his arms around her, grinding his obvious excitement into her ass and kissing her neck with a wet, open mouth. Her insides froze at his groan against her throat and her skin crawled, desperate to be free from his grip. He was growing more excited by the second, forgetting Booth was even there and moving his hand that still clutched the knife under the waist of her pants.

Some part of her mind heard the vicious growl her partner let loose just before launching himself at them and tackling them both to the ground. The man behind her broke her fall and his knife was only able to slice her abdomen in a long but shallow cut before Booth's fist to his face deterred him from anything further.

She'd scrambled away from the men, fighting to keep the gorge from rising any further in her throat.

"Bones are you alright? Are you hurt? Bones!" He'd hauled the now cuffed man to his feet and looked wildly at his partner, eyes stopping cold at the blood blooming across her pale shirt.

"I'm fine. Just a scratch." Frustrated with herself that she hadn't been able to keep the tremor out of her voice, she opened the back of the SUV so Booth could deposit the now giggling man into the vehicle, though she was loathe to be in close proximity to him again.

"There is no way he's riding with us Bones, no without a cage or something. I'm calling for someone to come and haul him in." No arguments from her.

An hour later everything had been taken care of and they were on their way back to her place. Her abdomen hadn't even needed stitches, just a few well placed butterfly bandages and cautious placement of the waist of her jeans. When she wasn't careful it rubbed uncomfortably over the cut and burned.

The man had had nothing to do with the crime they were questioning him about, he'd just happened to be 'a complete wackjob' in Booth's words. Just one of those things. She could accept that, fine- but she still really needed a shower.

Booth had dropped her off at her apartment after an exasperating amount of assurances that she was fine and would take care of herself. She would've said anything to get out of that car and into her bathroom so she could wash it all away. Her skin burned where he'd touched her, every time she looked in the mirror she found it hard to believe there was nothing _physically_ left on her skin as a testament to his actions. She might've felt a little better if there had been. As it was she was feeling fairly out of sorts, thoroughly shaken but feeling ridiculous about it at the same time. She'd come much closer to death in the past and it hadn't rattled her the way this afternoon had. Was it because it'd been so unexpected? Or because it had been in the middle of the afternoon in a public place?

She wasn't going to figure anything out at this point. It happened. It was finished. Move on. She shoved it back into the recesses of her mind and took a long hot shower.

Later, with a towel wrapped around her hair and in her favorite pair of comfortable pajamas she settled into her couch with her laptop on her knees. At least she could get some writing done. They'd been so busy with cases lately that her editor kept calling her in a panic for the latest installments of her Kathy Reichs series. He was never pacified when she reminded him that real life trumps fiction crime fighting. He apparently disagreed.

She did manage to force out a few pages but it lacked her usual flow and she knew it would read as if she'd been trying too hard. She deleted it with a sigh and stared at her blinking cursor for several long moments. She could really use a drink. Before she could think too deeply about anything Brennan unraveled her hair from the damp towel, grabbed her shoes and her keys and walked out of her apartment.

She was putting so much energy into blocking out that afternoon that she found herself not thinking of much at all. She didn't register the fact that her hair was wet, that she was in her pajamas, that it was raining, and most importantly she didn't register how showing up at his house would look. If she had been thinking clearly there's no way she would have left her house, let alone gotten in her car, driven across town, and knocked on his door. There was nothing remotely hesitant about her knock, though what was there to be hesitant about? She'd been to his apartment plenty of times and as far as she knew, (as far as she allowed herself to know) tonight was no different.

When he opened the door and let her in his grin faltered a little at the corners as he took in her appearance, but he didn't comment.

"What's up Bones?" For some reason she couldn't make the words come. What was wrong with her? She'd come here for drinks countless times. His expression grew more concerned the longer it took her to answer his question. Suddenly she felt naked and exposed as it dawned on her the way she was dressed and she began to shiver, even in his warm apartment.

"Hey… Bones." He closed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms, moving his hands in soothing circles at her back. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He fought against a shiver of his own when her warm breath whispered over his neck, followed quickly by a very cold nose pressing into his skin. He pulled back, grabbing her hand and leading her toward his bedroom.

"We've got to get you out of that shirt, it's soaking wet. You can wear one of mine while I throw yours in the dryer." He pulled out the warmest sweatshirt he had and threw it to her, though it was likely to reach her knees when she wore it. He left her in the room to change and went in search of a towel for her hair, growing ever more concerned that she still hadn't spoken.

He waited for her to come out of his room but minutes later when she hadn't appeared he knocked softly on his own door and entered slowly. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in his sweatshirt, clutching her own wet shirt in her hands. She looked up at him as he approached but he couldn't recognize the expression on her face. Whatever it was, it twisted his insides and he knew he never wanted to see it again. His sweatshirt was definitely warm but it was so big on her that she looked small and helpless in comparison.

Knowing her hair was still wet he gathered it in his hands and lifted it off the back of her neck, allowing him to drape the towel underneath it like a cape. He leaned back to smile at her but froze when he saw that she'd rubbed the side of her neck raw. Comprehension flashed through him and he placed his hand over the abused patch of skin. This at last, broke her out of her trance and she leaned her head forward onto his stomach. His hand on her skin was like a brand, burning away the last remnants of her afternoon. It wasn't the only place she needed something banished. She could feel that man all over her suddenly and she whimpered into Booth's shirt before pulling herself up the length of his body and nuzzling his neck, fists clutching his shirt.

"Please Booth. Please please." His heart clenched at her words and her desperation and he did the only thing he knew to do, he held her close. She squirmed away from him, her huge and watery eyes searing his with her frantic emotions.

"No. I need.. I need-" Instead of finishing her sentence she pushed her body up and into his, crashing their lips together as she tried to disappear into him. Any coherent though he may have had about stopping flew out of his consciousness the moment her tongue swept across his bottom lip to taste him. Before he even knew what was happening his fist was buried in her curly wet hair and their tongues were hungrily exploring each other's mouths. He tightened his fist in her hair, pulling her head back, causing her to gasp and expose her throat to him which he quickly covered with his mouth. He sucked and bit almost viciously, reclaiming her as his own, erasing **any** evidence of the contrary; it was everything she'd been looking for.

Her hands slipped under his t-shirt, running up and down the length of his spine, pressing him closer to her, before moving around to his front and running over his abdomen.

His mouth worked its way up to her jawbone, pausing briefly under her ear when she moaned and thrust her hips into him in response. His own hands began to wonder, seeking out skin on skin contact, sliding up and under his sweatshirt and clutching at her hips.

Suddenly his shirt was off and she was lying beneath him on the bed, looking into his eyes alternately seeking and giving permission to continue. He gave her what she needed and the rest of the night followed in a blur of skin, whispers, and sensation.


End file.
